


Lost Boy

by Dalee



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Child Abandonment, Child Death, Child Neglect, Gen, Grief/Mourning, selectively canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29167056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalee/pseuds/Dalee
Summary: In Jack’s toothbox were teeth that held the memory of his death.Because Jack Frost was ten years old.
Relationships: E. Aster Bunnymund & Jack Frost
Comments: 6
Kudos: 96





	Lost Boy

**Author's Note:**

> It’s taken me almost three years to get here, but this fic’s finally _written_ and posted.
> 
> **Do not use, edit, or repost this work, even with credit.** This fic should be found on Archive of Our Own (AO3) and only on AO3.

It comes from heartache.  
And it grows like the lone sapling  
from the ashes of loss.  
And it carves its way out  
of the heart of tragedy and its heavy cost.  
And it rises like a solider thought lost  
returning home to his mother.  
And it smiles like the calm, clear sky  
following weeks of one storm after another.

And maybe this is why when Pandora  
opened the box that carried such calamities  
which inflicted all of mankind,  
gentle hope emerged from it too.

What else helps us  
overcome suffering  
if not by giving hope  
a chance to bloom.

—Nikita Gill, “Where Hope Comes From”

* * *

Aster was going to _kill_ Jack Frost.

Bad enough the bastard decided to ruin his holiday, but this? This level of snow was _dangerous._ There was hardly a soul outside now in this blizzard, and he’d heard more than one car skid off the road and ram into a tree or rail. Of the survivors, most were unconscious, but a nauseating, weakening twist of hope was usually enough to wake them. He gave their hope a little nudge after that to keep them going, loosened their seatbelts and car doors, and left an egg outside for them, invisible but a siren’s call to their hopes, leading them someplace warm and safe. It was the most he could do.

The ones who wouldn’t wake up? The ones who’d _died?_ He poured a bit of magic in them, something to sustain their souls until they were taken to the Beyond.

This was why he hated winter spirits. Callous with life, the lot of them.

Frost’s magic was thick in the air and became thicker the further Aster pushed his way through the snow. The winds _stung,_ sinking deeply into his fur in a way that told him that no human would’ve survived. He wasn’t even sure that most _spirits_ would survive these winds.

He hadn’t expected it, if he were honest. He’d heard of Frost, but nothing about the bastard wielding _this_ much power. Tooth would’ve had a hard time. She and her sister-selves relied too much on flight. He at least had the benefit of claws on his feet, and even then, it was a struggle.

Finally, _finally,_ he managed to force his way to the epicenter of the blizzard. He lashed out almost blindly—the snow was _everywhere_ —sweeping his leg out to knock Frost down.

Only, the body his leg collided with felt different. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Why—

The blizzard weakened enough for Aster to see, and his blood ran cold when he looked down and got his first real look at Frost.

A child looked up at him from the ground, eyes wide.

Then, in the smallest, shakiest, _hoarsest_ voice he’d ever heard, that child said, “You touched me.”

 _Awed._ Like he was _amazed_ that Aster had attacked him. Like it was everything he’d ever wanted, everything he could ever want, to have Aster attack him like some—like some _monster._

Great Stars, Jack Frost was a _kid._

And the _hope_ in him. Aster could feel it, so small and battered but so damn desperately, _relentlessly_ clinging on, a sharp punch to the chest now because it was coming true. _Because Aster had attacked him._

Distantly, as though he was disconnected from his own body, Aster crouched down. _~~Because Jack Frost was on the ground after he’d **attacked** him.~~_ “Hey, sprog. What’re you doing here?”

But ~~Frost~~ Jack only gasped, his entire frame shaking. “You can _see_ me,” he said disbelievingly.

Fuck. Fucking _shit._

“Yeah, I can see ya.” He reached out a paw and held it short of touching him. “Can touch you, too.”

Hesitantly, fearfully, _hopefully,_ Jack reached out and touched a finger against his paw. He wrenched his hand away immediately and then looked at his finger like it couldn’t be real, the fingers of his other hand rubbing it.

Aster felt his eyes burn.

Around him, the howling winds and piercing snow slowed until it completely stopped.

“Name’s Aster. I’m the Easter Bunny,” he told Jack, his voice adopting a soft and soothing tone like he wasn’t out of practice. Like he’d used it every day still. “You’re Jack Frost, yeah?”

Holding the hand he’d touched Aster with against his chest, a precious treasure, Jack nodded, eyes still wide.

“What’re you doing out here?” he asked again.

Jack pointed to the side. When Aster turned to look, he saw only a frozen pond with heavy machinery around it. Some had been knocked to their sides, and every last one of them had frozen over.

“They’re messing with my pond,” Jack said, still in that small voice. “They can’t mess with it.”

“Why?” If Jack had been older, Aster would’ve taken that at face value and walloped him a good one for throwing a temper tantrum over a fucking _pond._ But then, if Jack had been older, he wouldn’t have stopped after that leg sweep.

His throat worked with nausea.

“She’s there,” Jack whispered. “I have to protect her.”

“She?”

“I don’t—I don’t _know,_ but I have to protect her. It’s—it’s my fault. I should’ve—” Jack’s eyes teared up, and he shook his head fiercely. “They’re not— _no one’s_ allowed to crack the ice. It stays. _It stays._ ”

A guardian spirit? Jack didn’t read as one. Some guardian spirits were elemental, but he’d never heard of one who could change the weather. Then again, Aster hadn’t exactly kept up with the spirit world these past few centuries, not since he’d helped out that one European species some centuries back and they’d named themselves after his kind in gratitude. Far as he knew, elemental guardian spirits could get powerful enough to change the weather now. Maybe that was what Jack was, a guardian spirit, and everyone had just assumed otherwise when they’d seen the ice and snow. After all, there was no way of knowing for sure what kind of spirit anyone was without asking them.

Only, it was odd. Guardian spirits typically protected _places._ Scared places. Sometimes, they protected people, but Aster hadn’t heard of any humans in recent times who’d been granted that level of protection. Not to mention, guardian spirits would never forget the object of their protection. Even the oldest, most ancient guardian spirits Aster knew would never forget. Sometimes, it was the only thing they _did_ remember.

“They’re gone now. You’ve protected her,” Aster said. Then, hesitantly, because he still remembered the humans who’d been hurt, who’d _died,_ because of the blizzard, he added, “You did a good job.”

If possible, Jack’s eyes widened further. “Really?”

So trusting, even to someone who attacked him during their first meeting in place of a greeting.

“Yeah,” Aster choked out. “You did real good, Jackie.” He held out a paw. “How about you and me go back to my warren and get cleaned up, yeah?”

Jack stared at Aster’s hand, uncomprehending. When he realized what Aster wanted him to do a good half a minute later, he made a couple of abortive gestures, unsure, before finally reaching out with the hand he’d first touched Aster with. He visibly braced himself for contact with Aster’s paw and outright _jumped_ when Aster wrapped his paw around his small— _so small, it was so small and so cold_ —hand.

Gently, Aster tugged Jack up onto his feet and lifted him up. He felt Jack stiffen at the movement, mildly panicked, but Aster stood still and waited for him to calm. For a tick, he regretted lifting Jack up, but then the kid wonderingly stroked the fur on his chest.

Aster wanted to kill something.

* * *

Jack’s first reaction to Aster’s den was surprise. He didn’t usually see so much greenery and flowers. Maybe closer to the equator, he’d said, and in other places where winter wasn’t so cold or white, but he’d never been able stay long because the clouds tended to wander.

Which _he_ was responsible for shepherding because Jack was the _Seasons._ Not just a winter spirit as Aster had thought, as _everyone_ thought, or even a powerful elemental guardian spirit, but the latest fucking incarnation of the _Seasons._

The same Jack who’d been utterly _fascinated_ by one of Aster’s paint rivers, who’d stuck his finger in and giggled in delight when his finger had come out a swirl of purple, orange, and maroon.

Mother Nature had chosen to burden a _child_ with heralding the seasons.

An egg bumped into Jack, and he startled, almost falling into the paint river. When he regained his balance, he turned and watched the egg with the same awe he’d watched Aster with. _Still_ watched Aster with, eyes darting to him every few seconds like he expected Aster to be gone and taken off-guard every time their eyes met.

He kept being shocked that things could see him, never mind actually touch him.

Aster hadn’t been this angry in decades.

Pushing it down— _firmly_ down, the kid didn’t need to see him angry—Aster asked, “Jack, you hungry? I could whip us up some dinner.” He didn’t have meats in the Warren, not even for North, but he had eggs, and he had tofu. He was sure he could at least make something edible.

Of course, that was assuming that Jack ate veggies. Most kids didn’t.

Jack stared at him with wide unblinking eyes. “I get food?”

Aster blinked. Took a second to process what the sprog had said and what it implied and then right cleared that out of his mind because _no._ He was _not_ going to think about that right now, not when Jack could see his less than friendly reaction.

He’d already fucked up with Jack once. He didn’t know why Jack didn’t hold that against him, why he wasn’t afraid, but he wasn’t about to push it.

“Yes, Jack, you do,” he replied calmly, a performance worthy of an award. “I ain’t got nothing but veggies here, but if you’re fine with that, I can do a lot with them.” He hoped. He hadn’t really been cooking much these past few months while he’d been preparing for Easter, but he weren’t no slouch in the kitchen.

He’d give Jack a damn _feast._

“I—I’m fine with veggies,” Jack mumbled, his words only audible because of his hearing.

“Good.” Because he didn’t really have any other options and he hesitated to ask any of the others to bring him some groceries. He’d rather not force another interaction onto Jack until he was more settled. “Come have a look-see and tell me what you like.”

The answer was everything. Jack wasn’t picky and was fine with everything, especially the fresh stuff. He was trying to be good, so he didn’t steal food anymore, which only left the dumpster, which didn’t _really_ count, and the food there sometimes tasted bad.

Aster felt his face freeze. Felt it stiffen and desperately, _quickly_ smoothed it out.

Maybe later, when Jack was settled down and he had another adult who could watch him, he’d ask North for a spar. As insistently as he denied it, North was a dirty, _dirty_ cheater, and Aster had a feeling that he’d need that.

“I got plenty in stock, so let me know if you want seconds, all right, Jackie?” Aster said offhand as he set the table with some roasted veggies and tofu. He generally preferred his veggies raw and as a side dish to an entrée of hay, but this was fine. Skipping out on hay for a cooked meal every now and then didn’t hurt him any.

Jack, who’d immediately began shoveling food in his mouth—worrying, but maybe child spirits just ate that fast?—snapped his head up.

“Really?” he asked, or Aster thought he asked. It was hard to tell with the sprog’s mouth full.

“Yes, really.” He wasn’t a spring spirit, not technically, but his holiday landed in spring for half the hemisphere, and he was a Guardian besides. The Guardian of _Hope._ He’d throw his weight around if he had to to secure a meeting with Mother Nature because what the actual _fuck._

And of course, _of course,_ this was when he heard the sound of one of North’s damn portals. Cheeks bulged with food, Jack’s eyes widened, _afraid,_ and disappeared in a gust of wind so strong it knocked Aster out of his chair.

Granted, he hadn’t expected it, but still.

 _Dammit,_ North.

“Bunny?” North’s voice boomed through the Warren.

Aster pushed himself to his feet and all but ran to the open fields. “I _told_ you to stop using your portals in my Warren,” he snarled, skidding to a stop and standing up on his hind legs. His eyes darted around in search of Jack. Nothing. Kid was _good._ No kid should be this good at hiding.

“Bunny, old friend,” North greeted, and because he couldn’t take a fucking hint, he grabbed Aster by the middle and dragged him into a tight hug. Aster had long learned to just accept the overly affectionate gesture, but he still kicked at North’s shin. When he released him, North said, “Is not normal to see you call day early.”

“Shut _up,_ North,” Aster hissed, ears straining for any sounds of life.

Nothing. How in the Great Stars’ names was there _nothing—?_

“Bunny?”

“I said _shut up._ ” He felt his earns turn, but he _still_ couldn’t hear anything, not even the shift of fabric.

Mother Nature had _so much_ to answer for.

Finally giving up, he said loudly, making damn sure to keep his tone light and safe, “It’s okay, Jack, it’s only my friend North.” Then, because kids really _did_ love Santa Claus, much as he was loathed to admit it, he added, “It’s Santa Claus.”

“Jack?” North repeated. A smile broke out on his ugly mug. “You have company! Finally, our Bunny—”

A head popped out from behind one of the bigger boulders. “Santa?”

In the corner of his eye, Aster saw North still and clamp his mouth shut.

“That’s right,” Aster replied, stepping aside so Jack had a better view of them both. “Jack, this is my friend, North, better known as Santa Claus. North, this is Jack Frost.”

Realization dawned on North, and the bastard lived up to his famed intelligence and got on with the damn program.

“Is pleasure meeting you, young Jack,” North said with a dramatic bow, his volume thankfully, _blessedly_ quieter.

But Jack didn’t move from his place behind the boulder. Instead, in that small voice—Aster _hated_ that voice—he asked, “Am I in trouble?”

North blinked. “Why would you be in trouble?”

Jack bit his lower lip and then continued on, “’Cause I tried to break into your workshop.”

North reared back a little. News to him, then. Aster would’ve thought that Jack would’ve gone far enough for North to notice, even if he couldn’t actually break inside.

“I—I heard kids write letters to Santa. For Christmas. But I didn’t know how to write, and I didn’t know how to send the letter to you, so I went to tell you in person.”

That… that sounded like he’d succeeded.

“You come to North Pole? To Workshop?” North asked, sounding as confused as Aster felt.

Jack shrunk. He looked down, not out of shame as far as Aster could tell, but fear. Kids had no business being that afraid. It wasn’t right. “But there were—there were animals there? Really big animals, and they _growled,_ so I didn’t—”

He’d gone far enough to see a yeti. Had been _frightened_ by a yeti. But no, that wasn’t the worst of it. Whether a kid was naturally afraid of big animals depended on the kid, but that level of fear? The way he held his body close and tried to make himself smaller, tried to _hide?_

Aster wanted to punch something until his paws bled.

North took in a steadying breath. Then, slowly, he approached Jack. Jack tensed in response, but to his credit, he didn’t run away. _North,_ to his credit, didn’t get too close, stopping just outside of his reach. His, not Jack’s.

Then, he knelt down to be closer to Jack’s eye level.

“What does Jack Frost want for Christmas this year?” he asked, too solemn for a question like that with a heartbroken kind of kindness.

Aster had forgotten that for all his boisterousness, North’s holiday landed in winter for half the hemisphere. He had to have seen his share of children on the streets, of people frozen to death or close.

He’d forgotten that North would’ve seen sights that he himself had seen, of cars crashing into trees and people hurt or dead because of icy roads.

Jack glanced over at Aster. For confirmation? Didn’t matter, Aster smiled back as reassuringly as he could.

But Jack only shook his head. “I—I got what I wanted.” He smiled, a little thing that was the furthest thing from joyful Aster had ever seen. “Someone _saw_ me.” Then, almost shyly, “Thank you, Mr. Santa Claus.”

North very deliberately didn’t react, but Aster knew him too well. North was very, _very_ angry, and while Aster might’ve been a soldier millennia ago, North had been a _bandit._ The Bandit _King,_ to be precise.

“ _Two_ someones have seen you, Jack Frost,” North replied, strangling his anger to obscurity, “and we will always see you.”

Jack gasped sharply, unable to believe that this was really happening but so desperately _hopeful_.

Aster cleared his throat. “Jack, why don’t we finish dinner, yeah? North can tell you stories while we eat.”

Jack’s painful hope tilted into doubt. North must’ve seen it because he pushed himself up onto his feet and said, “Yes! I tell best stories, Jack. Bunny? Is boring. All work and no play.” He held out a hand. “Come, Jack.”

Jack stared at North’s hand—it was so _big,_ Aster thought suddenly, he could fit Jack’s entire hand in it, maybe even his _head_ —and then, slowly, like someone approaching a snake he knew would strike, he put his hand in North’s.

When North closed his hand, Jack jumped but didn’t pull away.

“Should have brought food,” North lamented theatrically, ignoring Jack’s reaction. “Bunny only has _veggies,_ but growing boys need meat!”

Aster rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything, instead following the two to the kitchen.

* * *

A lone, unpainted egg jumped up and down at the nearest shore. A passing fairy paused and chirped at her sister-selves, and soon enough, they all clustered around the egg.

It wasn’t every day Bunny reached out to them via egg. And on Easter no less! Why, that’d never happened before.

In her palace, Tooth stilled.

* * *

Elsewhere in the world, a lone, unpainted egg jumped off a cliff and landed on a stream of sand. It didn’t jerk. No, the egg was too precious a cargo for such movement. Rather, thinner strands of sand rose from its back to wrap carefully around the egg, and it slithered faster through the sky.

On his cloud, Sandy frowned.

* * *

Somehow, despite all the years he’d known them, it’d escaped Aster’s notice that his friends were absolute _rubbish_ with children. It was both hilarious and sad.

“Jack,” he called out softly, making sure to keep his paws raised and spread open, very visibly unarmed. At his side, Sandy’s own hands were above his head, shaking slightly in slow-motion jazz hands. “Jack, I’m sorry for my friend.”

Sandy showed an image of a puppy, bent low, its butt raised and its tail in a furious wag.

Aster didn’t like the sight of it. Dogs were among the many, _many_ things he didn’t like about humans.

“Exactly,” Aster added, eyeing the damn image. “Tooth was just… very excited to meet you.” Very. If he’d known that Jack apparently had a reputation about his teeth—which he hadn’t known was even a thing anyone could have a reputation about, but trust Tooth to know it—he would’ve warned her.

Then again, she had a habit of examining teeth first and checking in with people second, so maybe he should’ve foreseen this.

Sandy tilted his head to the side for a tick before he shook his head.

Another empty den. Aster dropped his hands and let out a frustrated growl. It was the fourth one already, and he was starting to think he needed to do a whole damn redesign of the Warren.

Sandy gave him a sly look, and a pram replaced the puppy.

“Well, we can’t exactly leave the kid alone!” he replied, refusing to be embarrassed.

With a partly fond, mostly amused smile, Sandy shook his head and pointed in what looked to Aster a random direction.

As he trailed after Sandy, Aster made a mental note to train up. He didn’t know _what_ he could train up that’d allow him to track kids the way Sandy and Tooth could, but he would. Like it or not, they couldn’t exactly leave Jack to his own devices, which meant there was a good chance Jack would spend time at the Warren, and Aster wasn’t about to call on Sandy or one of Tooth’s sister-selves, if not Tooth herself, to track him down when he inevitably lost the kid.

It’d probably come in handy later anyway.

As it turned out, five was their lucky number.

“She won’t do it again,” Aster promised, paws raised again. “She”— _didn’t mean to scare you_ didn’t quite cut it, not when, intent or not, she _had_ —“feels really bad about scaring you.”

Next to him, Sandy had opted for a calmer image of a cat, its tail undulating, the end of it in the shape of a hook. What _that_ was supposed to mean, Aster didn’t have the slightest idea. Cats weren’t as bad as dogs, but they didn’t like intruders in their territories, and _he_ wasn’t particularly fond of predators.

He was big enough and strong enough that most weren’t a threat to him, but instincts didn’t always listen to reason.

Jack’s face scrunched with internal debate, and Aster readied another argument on Tooth’s behalf. Not something he was all that good at, but he’d had to deal with Mother Nature and her court often enough that he had some practice.

’Course that was when Jack jumped off the bloody tree.

Aster almost scrambled to catch him, but a stream of sand wrapped around his waist, keeping him in place. Sandy, serene as could be, made a _calm down_ gesture, completely unconcerned. And he had every right to be, apparently, because Jack fell like a leaf, floating gently down to the ground, that staff of his clasped tightly in his hands against his chest.

Aster swallowed down his lecture. It’d be too fear-fueled and would come out sounding too angry, the very last thing he wanted around Jack. It’d never worked well with Anemone—

**_Don’t think about her._ **

The sound of shifting sand and the stream that’d held him back moved to encircle his forearm to give it a comforting squeeze.

“Jack,” he said quietly, using the rush of old grief to temper his fear-triggered anger, “I’m glad you’re okay, but I need you to not do that again. It scared me.”

Jack frowned, confused. “Why?”

Because he looked like a child and that tree was at least four times Aster’s height? ~~Because it’d been so long since he’d last been around a child and—~~

“Wind wouldn’t let me fall.”

Aster faltered, but before he could ask—Wind as in the _manifestation of the winds themselves?_ —Sandy patted his arm and gave him a _later_ look. The bastard _knew._ No wonder he hadn’t reacted.

Would’ve been nice to be told, but Aster let it go. Sandy’s kind didn’t speak, technically, their communication in a spectrum beyond most living beings’ perception and more subconscious body language than a conscious act. For all he knew, Sandy _did_ tell him.

Or that was what he’d claim, aware that Aster couldn’t exactly call the little trickster out on it.

“Fear doesn’t always make sense,” he said instead. “Sometimes, even when you know it’s okay, your brain keeps worrying.” He crouched down. “You want to go back to my friends, Jack, or do you want to keep hiding?”

Options. He remembered that being a very important thing with children, the knowledge coming slow and cobwebbed.

Jack tightened his grip on his staff.

“She’s not mad?”

“Tooth? Nah, she doesn’t get mad at kids, ’specially when they only got scared.” He put out his paw again. An unfair move knowing Jack’s skin hunger, the way he sought out touch half out of desperate greed and half out of fear that he was back to being invisible and intangible, but Aster told himself it was okay. He wasn’t going to use it to steer him toward any decision.

“If you don’t wanna see her again, she’d understand. Just let me take you to my best hiding spot in the Warren, yeah?”

See? Not using it to influence Jack’s decision.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Sandy give a sly little look, no doubt determined to follow along to see if this hiding spot was where Aster hid his less child-friendly chocolates.

It wasn’t, he wouldn’t take Jack there if it was, but let Sandy try and be disappointed yet again.

Carefully, slowly, the fear that _this_ time would be it horribly imprinted on his face, Jack put a trembling hand on Aster’s paw.

Jack relaxed at the feel of his fur. Aster waited for him to calm down some more before gently curling his paw around that small hand.

“So, what d’ya say, Jackie?”

Jack shuffled closer to Aster. “I wanna see the Tooth Fairy.”

So, Aster led Jack back to where he’d left Tooth and North. During their walk, Sandy created a little sand fairy and had it fly around Jack. He watched it fly around with awe, all curiosity and wonder—North was going to love this kid to pieces if he didn’t already—and reached out unhesitatingly.

Except when he touched the sand, a brilliant light blue spread from his fingertips until the entire fairy had changed. Jack didn’t notice anything different, watching with that same awe as the now-blue fairy flew, but Sandy _jerked._

Aster paused. Watched Sandy stare at Jack, wide-eyed, as the fairy flew in a distinctly different pattern than it had when it was golden. When it flew past Aster, he felt the refreshing, sharp chill of late autumn when the world was starting to frost over.

He and Sandy exchanged a look, his more along the lines of _what the fuck just happened?_ and Sandy’s a grimmer version of his _later_ look.

The fairy burst into a rainfall of light blue sparkles as they walked on. Aster could feel his magic in the Warren stir as the sparkles landed on the ground, trying to encourage frost, to move the seasons along. He was strong enough to resist, but that’d been a mostly instinctive attempt, not one done with any intent or effort. He honestly didn’t know what would’ve happened if Jack actively tried to change the Warren’s season.

It was a mindfuck, the sheer amount of _power_ in that small body. Aster had always known the Seasons was a powerful spirit. Of course, they were. Their powers impacted the entire world, no matter the culture, regardless of belief. It wasn’t even like Sandy’s dreams. Sandy’s powers had limited themselves to children since they’d taken up this Guardians gig, but the Seasons had no need for humans. They were a constant, omnipresent, _unstoppable_ force.

All in the body of a bloody kid, at the hands of an eternal _child._

They should’ve thought to look into Jack Frost sooner.

When they finally reached Tooth and North, it was to a quiet Tooth whispering orders to her sister-selves while simultaneously engaging in a whispered conversation with North, who was sitting on the ground with his arms crossed over his chest. Her fingers had been carefully wrapped, Aster noticed. North, no doubt. He’d seen Tooth wrap her own wounds before, and as helpful as her sister-selves could be, they tended to get distracted midway, too busy with a job that never ended.

Tooth perked at the sight of them, and in a softer tone—not subdued, but careful now—she said, “Hi, Jack.”

He heard more than saw Jack wave at her, felt the way he stepped closer to Aster, his body pressed up against his leg.

“Hi.”

Well, that was a start.

“I’m sorry for scaring you.” Tooth smiled, a little strained but mostly apologetic. “I got too excited and forgot to ask if I could look at your teeth. It’s a very bad habit of mine.”

A shrug. “S’okay.”

“Is not okay,” North replied, taking care to keep his volume quiet, too. “You got scared, Jack. No one’s fault but is not just ‘okay.’”

Tooth’s sister-selves chittered in agreement. Jack’s eyes strayed to them, and they widened.

“What are _they?_ ” he asked, the same as he’d been with Sandy’s faux fairies. North straightened at the sound of it.

“They’re… well, they’re my sister-selves,” Tooth explained as her sister-selves flew closer to Jack. They paused, checking his reaction, and continued on when he stepped closer to them. “They’re pieces of me, but also their own individual selves. Sort of. It’s a little hard to explain.”

Jack reached out, and one of Tooth’s sister-selves squeaked and took his finger in an imitation of a handshake. He jumped at the touch, and Tooth’s sister-self reared back. She didn’t apologize, though, frozen still at the expression on Jack’s face.

From the way Tooth’s main body stiffened and her jaw clenched, the way North looked away and the grip on his arm tightened until it was white with pressure, Aster could guess what expression Jack was wearing.

“I saw them all the time, but I didn’t know they were tooth fairies,” Jack confessed, giving Tooth’s sister-self a shy little wave. The others cooed. “They don’t look like fairies. Fairies don’t look like birds, and they usually don’t like humans.”

Tooth nodded in agreement and explained, “My sister-selves aren’t actually fairies, but that’s the easiest name I have for them.” She smiled. “Of course, that’s partly because everyone _else_ calls them fairies and the name just stuck. But they’re perfectly fine with humans, especially kids like you. In fact, they’d love it if you stopped by to say hi whenever have the chance, Jack. We’d be more than happy to have you visit us.”

Jack inhaled sharply. “Really?”

Aster’s core ached a little at that, the way his hope was so cracked and strained with desperation.

He hated that kind of hope, the ones that were about the only thing that kept someone going. Mind, he was grateful that they had _something,_ but Aster hated that they’d needed to have that kind of hope to begin with.

When Jack looked around—checking for confirmation from Tooth’s sister-selves—he brightened at each eager nod he received. One of Tooth’s more physically affectionate selves darted forward and nuzzled Jack’s cheek. He jumped again, but Tooth’s sister-self didn’t move away, and Jack tentatively brought a shaking hand up to her.

With his attention so wholly on the sister-self cuddling against him, Jack didn’t see their expressions darken.

Aster cleared his throat and forced his into something more neutral. “Jack, do you mind keeping Tooth’s sister-selves company? We have some Guardian business to discuss.”

Jack glanced over at Tooth, and when she smiled and nodded, encouraging, he broke into a grin and launched into the air. Tooth’s sister-selves squealed and raced after him, and her main-self’s smile widened as she watched them fly off.

Said smile dropped faster than an anvil off a rooftop. “What in the _world_ is going on, Bunny?”

Aster sighed and rubbed a paw over his face. “What’d North tell ya?”

 _Snowflake, human, tinier human,_ Sandy signed, and then, more damning, his body darkening, he showed the first human walking into the tinier human, who promptly burst into a shower of particles.

“That’s about right,” Aster said.

“But he’s a _child,_ ” Tooth replied, outraged and flabbergasted both. “Why hasn’t anyone claimed him as a ward?”

“I don’t think anyone _can,_ ” Aster told her. “He’s the Seasons.”

Sandy’s jaw dropped and fell to the ground, splattering upon impact.

“That’s—the _Seasons?_ ”

North shook his head. “ _Nyet._ Mother Nature would never choose a child—”

“He shepherds the clouds, North,” Aster cut in. “Don’t know what else that translates into other than ‘the Seasons.’”

As the splattered remains of his jaw reformed and flew back up to his face, Sandy signed, weary, _Wind._

“Yeah,” Aster agreed, “the winds are at his beck and call. What more proof do you need?”

“Mother Nature would never allow anyone to claim him as a ward,” Tooth realized aloud, bringing a hand up to her mouth. “She can’t afford to let anyone have that much power over him.”

The cartoony wind symbol above Sandy’s head disappeared, only to reappear, this time with a little stomping effect.

North nodded, looking older now. “But Wind can help. Not like guardian but close.”

Tooth frowned. “But why choose a child?”

“I don’t know,” Aster replied with a shake of his head. “I don’t even know if she chose him. He said… he said the Moon gave him his name.”

“No,” Tooth whispered with dawning horror. “Manny would never create a child spirit. He _wouldn’t._ ”

“He bring us together to _protect_ children,” North added vehemently.

But Sandy knew. Aster could see it, the heartbreak in Sandy’s face, the way his perpetual glow dimmed. He knew.

“There’s a lot he doesn’t remember,” Aster told them, “but he remembers that: a pond—”

 _It was cold and dark,_ Jack had said, his hand squeezing the fur of Aster’s chest tightly as he stared down at the hole Aster had made. _It was **scary.**_

“—moonlight, and a name in his head.”

“Do you think—” Tooth cut herself off, curling into herself a little, her eyes wide with the fear of discovery.

But she didn’t have to finish. Aster could guess. _Do you think Manny abandoned him because Mother Nature chose him as her Seasons? Do you think Manny had a choice?_

_Do you think Manny **created** him, or do you think Jack was human before Manny turned him into a spirit?_

Aster couldn’t blame her from stopping herself. He didn’t want to know the answers to them either, but he didn’t think they had a choice, not when they knew now who Jack Frost was. Not when they knew how old he would be for the rest of his damn near immortal life.

Sandy tugged on North’s pants, a question mark above his head.

“ _Da,_ ” North answered, weary. “I ask Manny at Workshop.”

“In the meantime, Tooth, Sandy, can either of you accompany Jack?” Aster asked. “He can’t stay here long. He has a job to do, but I…”

“Oh! Of course.” Tooth fluttered toward him, hovering. “Your holiday’s just past, you must be exhausted.”

His nose twitched. She and Sandy were always understanding of his and North’s post-holiday exhaustion despite their year-round workload. He’d never really thought about it or appreciated it until now.

He should thank them somehow. Later.

“Go sleep, Bunny,” North said. “We will take care of Jack.”

Sandy nodded. _Bed._

“I wanna figure this out first,” Aster insisted. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he was sure they had a working plan to keep Jack supervised and in the company of someone who could actually see and touch him while he worked.

Sandy jumped up and down, hand raised and waving in the air.

“We’ll _both_ watch over Jack while he works,” Tooth said firmly. “No offense, North, but you can’t fly—”

North waved off her apology. “Bah, why take offense? Is fact.”

“—and both of us can still work even if we’re preoccupied or moving.” She smiled. “Besides, this’ll give me the chance to make up for scaring him earlier. So, go to sleep, Bunny, you need your rest.”

He didn’t want to sleep, not when he knew what he’d dream.

But no, he couldn’t not sleep. His magic was running too low. He couldn’t stay awake much longer, and the last thing he wanted was to pass out on them. Great Stars knew North and Tooth would never let it go, and Sandy would personally come to sand him to sleep for the next decade.

Aster sagged. “Fine, but you lot wake me up if anything happens. _Anything._ ”

“You worry too much, Bunny,” North waved off. “We are Guardians! We can take care of one child.”

“Oh, we’ll have so much fun!” Tooth agreed, almost giddy with excitement.

Great Stars, they were going to fuck up big time.

Aster rubbed a paw over his face and deeply regretted his pre-Easter habits.

Sandy made a shooing motion, that stupid bed symbol still above his head.

“Fine, fine, I’m going.” He pointed a claw at each of them. “Do _not_ destroy my Warren.”

At least they didn’t escort him to his bedroom. He wouldn’t’ve stood for that, no matter how dead on his feet he was.

When he reached the sleeping chamber in his den, he dropped his bracers and holsters on the floor well away from his nest—he’d learned _that_ lesson after his first Easter—and worked on getting his feet wrappings off. Once they were off, he balled them and tossed them in the laundry bin.

He could trust them, he told himself. Sure, they were terrible with children—Tooth and Sandy worse than North, at least the hulking buffoon had dealt with kids before, even if it was during his bandit years, and he regularly dealt with the elves who were basically kids themselves—but they’d all chosen to give themselves up and take up the mantle of Guardian to protect the children of the world. They’d take good care of Jack.

Aster wiped a paw over his face again and crawled into his nest.

He dreamt of Anemone that night, a beautiful dream of a time long past. When he woke up, he cried into one of his pillows, and the sister-self Tooth had sent to retrieve him was kind enough to turn around.

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: Please don’t follow strangers to their homes.
> 
> Jack acts younger than he actually is largely due to the three hundred years he’s spent mostly inexistant to the human world, incapable of interacting with them in any meaningful way, and ignored or avoided by the spirit world.
> 
> Bunny doesn’t actually have any of his less child-friendly chocolates on hand because he _knows_ Sandy would find them if he did. If he wants them, he makes and finishes them off that day. Sandy’s spent some two hundred years trying to get his hands on some.
> 
> I’m currently not interested in exploring this idea further, so I have no plans on continuing this fic. This is the end, folks, hope y’all had a good read.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcome, and feel free to check out [my tumblr](https://shortdalee.tumblr.com/). I don’t bite. ;)


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